


The Gun Loses

by YanzaDracan



Category: Leverage, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Betrayal, Comment Fic, Community: comment_fic, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YanzaDracan/pseuds/YanzaDracan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt – This is why I don’t like guns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gun Loses

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don't own them, various producers and studio executives who make more money than I can imagine own them. I'm not making any money.

Eliot Spencer, premier retrieval specialist and all around hard ass frowned at his lover twisting in a fevered sweat on the bed. 

Dean Winchester, premier hunter of all things evil, and all around hard ass, twisted the sheets in the throes of a fever induced nightmare. 

Eliot had been handed his payoff when he got a text with a location. When he got there he was faced with the task of patching up the infected bullet wound in Dean's shoulder. He growled softly under his breath hoping someday to get Sam Winchester out from under the watchful eye of his brother and beat him 'til he screamed like a girl. 

The lovers seemed to never have time together unless one of them was bloody or beaten. With Eliot it was just a fact of life, but with Dean it seemed lately all his wounds were brother inflicted and he was damned tired of it. There was always some excuse-possession seemed to be a big problem for the younger Winchester. 

Just because their name was Winchester, couldn't they find some way to hurt each other without using guns? Three times Sam had shot at Dean. Three times his boy had gotten lucky. 

Dean's face turned toward his touch as he wiped the rivulets of sweat with a cool cloth. The monotonous motions of wiping the cool cloth down Dean's body let Eliot get lost in his memories. 

He hated guns. Oh, he could handle them and there wasn't anything he didn't know about them. He was a dead shot. 'Know thy enemy' was his justification. 

All his life anything he loved had been taken away by a gun. Logic would say it wasn't the gun, but the person wielding the gun. Eliot knew better. If there was no gun then his loves would not have been taken. 

Finally. The skin under his hands began to cool as the fever broke, and Dean dropped into a healing sleep. Eliot bared his teeth in victory. 

The gun wasn't taking this love. 

~ Fini ~


End file.
